


(C)Rush

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addict Harry, Angst, Criminal Blaise, Criminal Draco, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Draco and Blaise are criminals who run a successful narcotics business. Things go wrong when they meet a dealer and discover a drugged Harry Potter tied to a bed, who Draco and Blaise decide to rescue in a fit of madness. Forced into hiding together, Blaise and Draco discover there are some things more meaningful than money and pleasure.





	(C)Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags on this story. The non-con and abusive relationship are non-graphic and in the past (between Harry and an OC) but the addiction is current and more graphic. 
> 
> On a lighter note, this is the first time I've written this trio and I quite enjoyed the dynamics here.

***

Blaise grasped Draco's hips with sweaty hands, his fingers flexing with the force of Draco's movements as he fucked himself on Blaise's cock.

Blaise groaned as he felt Draco's passage tighten around his length as he came, his seed splattering over Blaise's chest. The pressure and the tight grip on Blaise's cock was immense, and after a few more pumps up into Draco he was spilling his own release into Draco.

Draco leaned down to give Blaise a sloppy, satisfied kiss, before he rolled off his cock and flopped onto his back on the bed beside Blaise.

"Pass me a cig, will you?" Blaise murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence passed between them.

He felt Draco shuffling around in the bedside drawer and Blaise turned to look at him, seeing slick beads of sweat still dripping down Draco's slender back. His gaze fell to Draco's pert arse, and when Draco turned back he gave Blaise a knowing smirk.

A cigarette rested between Draco's lips, and he leaned over Blaise's body to press one into his mouth. Blaise took it readily, watching as Draco used his wand to light his own cigarette before lighting Blaise's.

Draco fell onto his back again and patted Blaise's thigh. The bitter taste of cigarette smoke filled the air, coating Blaise's throat.

He knew it was a filthy habit, but there was something relaxing about a good cigarette, and they always felt especially nice after sex. Besides, magic could easily fix the damage that they caused, and there were far worse things to be addicted to.

And Blaise should know—he sold them.

"Nott's asked for a fresh supply of the Energy Potion," Blaise murmured, remembering. "He's going through them fast."

Energy Potions could be bought in any potion's shop, but Blaise and Draco made their own brew, given the same name to keep the Aurors off their back. Their version was effectively a potionised version of Muggle cocaine, very addictive and plenty expensive.

"Hmm," Draco responded. "More money for us."

Blaise turned into his side and blew out cigarette smoke over Draco's face.

Draco was certainly gorgeous, complementing Blaise's own beauty perfectly. Whereas Blaise was all dark—dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes—Draco was all pale. They contrasted strikingly, and Blaise didn't think they looked anything less than stunning when they were together.

"Ugh, we've got that meeting with Yannick Filey soon," Draco muttered, stabbing his cigarette out in the dish on the bedside table. "Think we can be late?"

Blaise shook his head. "Not with the reputation I hear he's got; apparently he likes to get his own way and doesn't take kindly to hearing the word no. Sounds a bit like you, actually."

"Well," Draco said, smirking, "at least we'll have something in common."

"We'll take the gun, just in case things go south," Blaise reasoned; detection spells never picked up on Muggle weapons. “But ideally we'll come out with a good deal; Filey's supposed to have some of the best drugs in the business, but he's a useless potioneer. And as we're the best potioneers in the business...

Draco snorted. "A match made in seedy heaven.

***

Yannick Filey looked very much what one expected when meeting a drug dealer and supplier. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and lean but well muscled, blond hair buzzed as short as Blaise’s, and tattoos all the way down his arms, even spreading onto his hands and knuckles. He dressed in smart black clothes, had silent but incredibly muscular men simply waiting by the walls, and had a large dog that bared its teeth as the sight of Draco and Blaise.

“Down, boy,” Filey said affectionately to the animal. “These are friends. Do come in.”

Draco and Blaise stepped inside, paying no heed to the dog or the guards; they had been in the game long enough to be used to it by now. They had their own guard-dog at home, and often used Goyle and his similarly built acquaintances to provide extra security for them when they needed it.

“We will be casting a simple detection charm on you first, if you don’t mind,” Filey stated, brandishing his wand. 

“Go right ahead,” Blaise said with a smile.

Naturally the spell didn’t pick up on the gun in Blaise’s back pocket, and wizards never thought to do manual pat-downs. It had been strange, at first, embracing Muggle methods, but ignoring the horrid origins the Muggle methods often gave advantages simply because they were so unknown to the magical community. 

“Now the formalities are done with, please come and sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?” Filey asked, gesturing to a tatty sofa with balls of white seeping out of the holey fabric. 

Draco and Blaise both took a seat gingerly on the very edge of the sofa, which up close was stained with some rather disturbing looking marks, and shook their heads.

"So," Draco said with a bright smile, ever the charmer. "I hear you're the best wizard in the drugs business."

Filey smirked. "I find the Muggles with the purest products, _persuade_ them to give me some free of charge, then use magic to enhance the purity, the effects, and the addictive quality. I do alright for myself. I hear you two have just a good reputation in the potions market."

Blaise nodded. "We were both best in our class, and Draco had private lessons from the Dark Lord's own potion's master in decidedly less legal concoctions."

"I heard you make good shit," Filey nodded. "And my last potioneer tried to stab me in the back so he's now _unavailable_. In exchange for good potions, I'd be willing to trade my products...heroin, cocaine, meth; no paper trail, just a pure and simple trade."

Blaise glanced at Draco and they exchanged a brief nod.

"A sample, perhaps?" Blaise enquired. "Draco has brought you a sample of ours."

Draco slid a vial of bright pink liquid across the table. "Accelerated Euphoria Potion."

Filey's eyes lit up, and he gestured for one of his guards to take the taster. He then dumped a mass of white powder on the coffee table from a little plastic bag.

"Our most popular—coke," Filey offered.

Blaise ran his finger through the powder and gave the smallest amount a slight sniff while Draco cast a purity checking charm over the drug.

"Nice to see you know what you're doing," Filey commented. "I never trust a dealer who can't resist a taste."

"Of course not," Draco agreed. "You need to keep a clear head. So-"

Draco's words were drowned out as a loud siren began blaring through the building, soon joined by the angry growling of the dog.

"You must excuse me a few moments, gentlemen," Filey said, eyes darkening. "We have a few attempted break ins here every so often, but nobody has ever succeeded."

Filey and the guards hurried off, and Draco stood immediately after they left.

"Not pure enough?" Blaise asked.

"No, it's fantastic quality," Draco answered dismissively. "I just want a quick look at the rest of his house."

"Draco...Blaise said warningly, but Draco showed no sign of listening.

"I'll be two minutes...if they come back tell them I desperately needed the bathroom."

Blaise rolled his eyes but didn't argue further, knowing Draco always did whatever he wanted. The blaring sirens and loud shouts outside were a comfort that Draco wasn't going to get caught, and he indeed returned just a couple of minutes later.

The look on Draco's face was entirely unnerving, however, alarmed and confused and angry, all at once.

"What?" Blaise snapped, jumping up. "What happened? Were you caught?"

Draco shook his head. "Harry Potter is tied to a bed in a room down the hall."

Blaise blinked. Those were the last words he'd been expected to hear. Last he had heard about Potter was that his friends had reported him missing several weeks ago, and before that he spent most of his time partying.

It was clear to Blaise that Draco looked rather concerned, but then he didn't think Draco had ever gotten over the fierce crush he'd had on Potter in school.

Blaise didn't mind; they'd both agreed that monogamy wasn't really their thing, and they both considered themselves polyamorous and able to love more than one person at once. So far, though, they'd never found anyone worthy enough to join them for more than a one-night-stand.

"So what?" Blaise said, who'd never cared either way about Potter. "Potter spends a couple of years basically living in nightclubs and winds up in some fetish drug den? It's not our business what he wants to do with his life.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't think he's there consensually, you prick. He's high as a kite, for one thing, but he's skeletal and littered in cuts and bruises...something isn't right."

"Or maybe he's just an addict with a bondage kink," Blaise argued. "What? You think we should, what, rescue him? Piss off Filey just to later find out we were wrong about the whole thing?"

"Just come and see, Blaise," Draco urged, grabbing Blaise's wrist.

The sirens and shouting were still going off, so Blaise reluctantly allowed Draco to pull him along.

When Blaise saw Potter, he had to admit that Draco was right to be concerned, though Blaise still failed to see how it was their problem.

Potter's very thin form was laid out on a bare, white-stained mattress, his limbs spread out and tied to the bars of the bed frame with rope. He was naked save for a sheet covering him from the waist downwards, but the parts of skin Blaise could see were littered with cuts, track marks, and bruises that looked like they could have only been caused by someone else's hand.

Blaise cringed as he looked at the floor, taking care to step carefully as he avoided needles and syringes, used condoms and their wrappers, and sex toys that really ought to have been anywhere at the floor.

"I hope Filey keeps his storage facilities cleaner than this, Blaise commented.

Potter made a mumbling sound at Blaise's voice, but he didn't seem to be aware that they were there otherwise, barely moving against his restraints.

"We have to help him," Draco said quietly. "Blaise..."

"No!" Blaise protested. "Absolutely not. I'm sorry Potter is in this state but it's really not our problem."

"I can't just leave him here," Draco hissed. "I owe him a Life Debt! And it's not like I can just call the Aurors...unless you can think of a perfectly innocent reason to have been in a fucking drug den."

Blaise smiled despite himself; hearing Draco swear never failed to sound sexy to him.

"Blaise, please!" Draco cried. "We'll take him and go, and figure out what to do from there. Filey and his men will be back any minute."

"Fuck, he's going to kill us," Blaise muttered, head snapping towards the bed as another siren began wailing in the room; Draco had snapped one of the ropes holding Potter down. "Shit!"

Blaise had no choice but to cut the other bindings away, and cast a hasty Locking Charm at the door to give them just a few extra minutes. 

Draco scooped Potter up in his arms, and he gave Blaise a meaningful look as he Disapparated. Blaise was right behind him, and the last thing he heard before he vanished was a scream of rage. 

"Safe to say that Filey's pissed off," Blaise muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For Salazar's sake, Draco..."

"Just shut up, Blaise," Draco snapped. "We'll deal with this like we do everything. Just work with me and stop fucking complaining."

"You're lucky I'm a little bit turned on right now," Blaise murmured huskily. "We're going to have to leave, aren't we? Let's grab everything important and blow the place up before Filey arrives. Fuck! How many more houses do we have to blow up before we can finally settle down, Draco?!"

"We knew what we were going into when we became narcotic dealers," Draco said softly.

Blaise snorted. "Like we had a choice?"

And it was true; nobody would employ an ex-Death Eater or somebody who had been even neutral in the war. Their only options for money were selling drugs and potions, or selling their bodies. Neither of them had been prepared to do the latter so narcotic dealing it was. 

They were good at it, too. But it always went the same way; they'd rake in gold, make some deals, piss someone off or be pissed off, be forced to destroy their property and lay low for a while, and then start the cycle over again. It had become less about the money and more about survival.

Kidnapping a _potential_ kidnap victim from a high-end drug supplier really didn't raise their survival chances.

Blaise quickly ran round the house to gather everything they needed—mainly money, potions and drug products, and their German Shepherd, Galileo—before meeting up with Draco in the front garden.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Blaise asked, glancing down at Potter in Draco's arms. Blaise hoped Draco would see it as sign of Blaise's support.

"He's light, it's fine," Draco answered, giving Blaise a sad smile. "Thank you for not knocking me out when I first suggested saving him."

"It was tempting, but I could tell it was important to you," Blaise admitted. "Now, shall we?"

The house blew up into smithereens, right as they Apparated away.

***

“I still think we’ve made a mistake,” Blaise muttered, watching idly as Draco paced the floor as they waited for the drugs in Potter’s system to wear out.

“Complaining about it isn’t going to help anything,” Draco snapped. “Yes, okay, maybe I was a little… _rash_ , but do you really think we could have walked away and left Potter there? Even if we don’t particularly _like_ him, we still _know_ him.”

Blaise did think Draco had a point, but both he and Draco had a habit of rarely agreeing with the other one during an argument even when they were right.

“We could have gone away and given it some thought,” Blaise retorted, because he didn’t think he was entirely in the wrong. “Maybe we could have written an anonymous tip to Potter’s friends and then _they_ could have dealt with it; instead we’re stuck at the safehouse and we definitely can’t drop Potter off anywhere now, so he’s stuck here too until Filey is sorted.”

“Better stuck here than the state he was left in there,” Draco pointed out, raising a brow. 

Blaise inclined his head. No matter how infuriating the situation was, Draco was right; they had to deal with it whether they liked it or not, so better to make the most of it rather than crying like a whining child.

“Come here,” Blaise murmured, beckoning Draco over with a finger. Once they were close enough Blaise curled his arms around Draco’s waist and pulled him onto his lap, bowing his head to give Draco a chaste kiss. “If it comes to it, we go to Plan V, but let’s see if the Aurors or any of Filey’s competitors get to him first.”

“Hmm, don’t talk about plan V,” Draco teased, grinding his lap against Blaise’s. “You know it always turns me on thinking about the last time we went there.”

Blaise grinned as he kissed Draco again, moaning as Draco’s teeth tugged at Blaise’s bottom lip sharply. He had just slid his hands under the back of Draco’s shirt when they heard a groan followed by a dog’s bark.

Draco and Blaise both turned to the bed, where Potter seemed to be rousing.

Galileo was sat by Potter’s side on the bed, and was looking at Draco and Blaise with an expression that read _get over here_. Galileo was a beautiful dog, intelligent, well-trained, and usually had a reservation towards strangers; he seemed to have a soft spot for Potter, however, and Blaise always said he should trust Galileo’s instincts because he was rarely wrong. 

Potter shifted on the bed, eyes opening and blearily staring at nothing in particular until they landed on Galileo. Despite the surprised look on his face, Potter smiled as the dog nudged his body playfully, but it soon fell off his face as he looked around and realised he was somewhere completely different. 

“Wha’?” Potter mumbled, eyes widening as he took in sight of Draco and Blaise. “How did I get here? Where’s Yannick? Did you bring me here?”

Draco nodded, and the look on Potter’s face was not a reassuring one.

“Are you crazy?” Potter hissed. “He’s going to kill you. Oh my god, he’s going to kill all of us. Are we safe? Can Yannick get to us?”

The sound of horror in Potter’s voice didn’t do much to inspire hope in Blaise.

“Filey doesn’t know this place exists, or who the Secret Keeper is,” Draco answered. “But when you say _kill_ , you mean…?”

“Like Yannick will take a knife and slowly slice us apart with it,” Potter breathed, clutching the sides of his face. “Oh, God, he’s going to be furious.”

“Can I just clarify one thing, Potter?” Blaise piped up. “You weren’t willingly bound to Filey’s bed, were you? Because if we’ve accidentally kidnapped you rather than saved you, I’d much rather send you back so you can explain the mistake.”

Potter laughed humourlessly. “Willing? Hardly! My _unwillingness_ to be there is what made him tie me up in the first place. Fuck! Okay, it’s fine, it’s fine; if you say we’re safe here then we’re safe here. And thank you, by the way, for taking me out of that hellhole, and I’m sorry you didn’t realise the massive target you were drawing on your backs when you took me.”

“We had some idea,” Blaise muttered darkly. 

“Yes, well, I owed you a Life Debt and all…” Draco mumbled. “And, er, I’m sure you’ll understand, Potter, that going to St Mungo’s or the Ministry is out of the question. It’s too-”

“Open,” Potter cut in, nodding understandingly. “We can’t go anywhere, not until Yannick’s been taken care of. God!”

Galileo, sensing Potter’s discomfort, nestled his head onto Potter’s lap. Potter dropped his hands down to pet the dog’s head, and Blaise could see some of the tension leaving his body.

“Everything will be fine,” Blaise said. “We always make sure things go our way, don’t we, Draco?”

“That’s good,” Potter replied. “Only Yannick feels the same way, and well, only one person can win.”

***

Dealing with Potter’s withdrawal had certainly been unpleasant. It had set in just a few hours after his high had worn off, and gradually got worse and worse until he was throwing up and shivering, groaning in pain, and begging Draco and Blaise to get him some heroin. Potter spent five days looking like death, apparently _feeling_ like death, and hardly talking to them as he sunk into depression.

The horrors of withdrawal was just one of the many reasons that Draco and Blaise wouldn’t touch any kind of narcotics. But seeing as Potter didn’t have the option _not_ to go through withdrawal, they were forced to look after him and stop him trying to escape on occasion—apparently Potter knew where Filey kept his drug stash and he ‘ _absolutely promised not to be caught_.’

Draco and Blaise had even considered letting Potter at their heroin stash, but they’d decided that was for paying customers who weren’t partly to blame for a sending a drug dealer after their heads.

After a week or so the withdrawal symptoms finally passed, and Potter was able to start living life like a semi-normal person, albeit one who was no doubt still desperately craving heroin while stuck in a safehouse.

And sometimes it managed to feel like they weren’t stuck hiding out in a shabby little cottage, hoping that a drug dealer wasn’t going to find them and kill them. The three of them living together felt downright domestic at times, which felt strange to Blaise because he’d rarely done domestic in his life; there was always new stepfathers who would disappear, or Dark Lords, or narcotic deals gone wrong threatening the peace. Life was more often fast-paced and thundering, and that excited Blaise, but in the weeks that they were forced to hide out like this, he and Draco did get to live like a normal couple for a little while, and Potter seemed to fit into that situation strangely well. 

Currently Blaise was sat in an armchair as he read a book, while Draco played some notes on the piano, and Potter curled up on the windowsill with Galileo sprawled across his lap.

At first Galileo’s affection for Potter had worried Blaise, because Galileo was supposed to be a guard-dog and thus not be so stranger-friendly, but then Blaise supposed that Galileo most likely saw Potter as something wounded rather than a threat.

Potter was surprisingly quiet, and spent most of his time looking wistfully out of the window and petting Galileo. He appeared gentle all around, even in the way he held himself; Potter had never been overconfident in their school days like Draco, but he had been at least somewhat sure of himself. That self-esteem really seemed to have dropped now. He was far too thin, and his straggly hair was so long that he tended to pin it up in a bun; he definitely didn’t look like he was interested in taking care of himself beyond basic hygiene, and it showed.

Potter, did, however, seem to be distracted from his longing staring by Draco’s music. Blaise wasn’t surprised; Draco was an incredibly gifted piano player, perhaps as good as Blaise himself. 

Draco seemed to feel Potter’s eyes on him, because he stopped playing and turned around to fix Potter with a questioning look. 

“You play really well,” Potter said, jerking his head towards the piano. “My aunt got one once, but she wasn’t very good at it and they sold it on. I always wanted to learnt to play an instrument.”

“Come here,” Draco ushered, patting the space on the piano stool beside him.

Potter stood, drawing a dissatisfied whine from Galileo who decided to settle down by Blaise’s feet instead. Blaise smirked and leaned down to pat Galileo’s head, before drawing his attention back to the piano, his book entirely forgettable now.

Despite the physical signs of heavy drug usage, Potter was quite an attractive man. He wasn’t classically handsome like Blaise and Draco, but would perhaps be better described as _cute_ or _endearing_.

He complemented Draco and Blaise’s features quite well, too. His skin tone was roughly in the middle of theirs, and his eyes were bright and vibrant; Potter was wild where Draco and Blaise were sleek. 

Blaise could feel something stirring in him as he watched Draco show Potter some basic notes on the piano, seeing how well they moved together. Blaise was a simple man; he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was the best. Potter wasn’t quite the best, but he was close, and a threesome would certainly be a way to make their current living situation a lot more interesting.

Because domesticity, while all well and good for a little while, bored Blaise eventually. He needed something to stir things up, and give him a thrill. And watching the little smiles Draco gave Potter whenever Potter wasn’t looking, Blaise was certain that Draco would agree with him.

***

One thing had been weighing on Draco’s and Blaise’s minds, which was how Potter came to be tied to a drug dealer’s bed in the first place.

Potter had so far told them nothing about Filey, aside from how dangerous he was, and tended to change the subject if he came up. They hadn’t pushed Potter for information because they hadn’t needed to, but now they had something they wanted.

Blaise and Draco didn’t have the patience to try and coax Potter to talk, so Draco came up with a hopefully effective solution.

“Weed?” Potter exclaimed, looking down at the blunt in Draco’s hand and taking it without a second thought. “I thought you didn’t keep any drugs here.”

“Nothing hard,” Draco lied. “This is just to keep us relaxed when we need it.”

“It does the job, I guess,” Potter shrugged, putting the blunt between his lips and letting Draco light the tip with his wand. “Mm, this is some good shit. Aren’t you two-?”

“We’re fine,” Blaise cut in. “We just thought you seemed tense.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while then, until Potter’s breathing got laboured and the whites of his eyes became bloodshot, the pupils widening until there was only a thin circle of green left on the rim.

“Potter?” Blaise prompted, causing Potter to fix him with a goofy smile. “Mind if I ask you something?”

Potter’s eyes narrowed despite his smile, but he relaxed again just seconds later. “Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“So...Filey. How did you end up with him?” Blaise asked.

Potter laughed. “Did you get me high just so you could question me? You’re so funny, Blaise, I’d have talked to you anyway. Now how did I...what did you just ask me? Oh, Yannick. Yeah, he was my boyfriend.”

Blaise and Draco stared at Potter incredulously, not that he noticed, busy as he was staring at his hand and giggling as he turned it over and over, the damn stoner. 

“Boyfriend?” Draco repeated faintly, sounding vaguely horrified.

“Huh?” Potter murmured. “You mean Yannick? He’s not my boyfriend any more, not that he liked that idea very much. I told him I didn’t want to see him again so he tied me to his bed and refused to let me leave. I’m not gonna lie, he kept me high most of the time so I didn’t really know what was going on while I was tied there, only that I hurt in places that I didn’t like to think about too much when I was sober. That’s messed up, isn’t it?”

“Very much so,” Blaise agreed. 

The thought of Potter bound and completely out of it as Filey abused his body made Blaise feel nauseous, angry in a way that he rarely felt for anybody except his mother and Draco. 

“Don’t look so sad,” Potter mumbled, waving his hand and almost falling out of the chair. “It’s fine, the heroin and ketamine kept my mind off things, and I don’t really remember what went on when I was high. I didn’t like the ketamine much, have you tried it? The smack was good though, Yannick always had great smack. That’s how I got to know him in the first place. A blowjob for a hit, not a bad deal at first. Did you suck him too or did you just give him cash? I always knew he lousy cheater.”

“Er, what?” Draco said dumbly.

“How did you pay for your drugs? That’s why you were with Yannick, yeah? To get something? I know the kind of people who hang around Yannick, and they’re all addicts,” Potter explained, blinking his eyes rapidly. “It’s ok to admit it to me, we’re all in the same boat, yeah? Do you remember Durmstrang’s boat? That was a pretty ship.”

So Potter thought Blaise and Draco were fellow addicts? That explained his ease around them. And if that helped Potter get through their forced time together then Blaise wasn’t going to break that delusion.

Potter began giggling again, despite the silence. “My aunt and uncle always said my parents were worthless drunks. I never believed them, and they _were_ wrong, but now _I’m_ the worthless junkie. Isn’t it funny the way things work out? You were both so prim and proper and I was supposed to be this _hero_. You have to have something harder than weed here, don’t you? I’ll suck you both off if you’ll share with me.”

Blaise shared a glanced with Draco, and in just a split few seconds they clearly considered the option before simultaneously deciding they weren’t quite _that_ awful.

“We don’t have any heroin here,” Draco lied. “It’s a _safehouse_.”

Potter tutted like he didn’t believe him.

“Pity,” Potter murmured. “Because if the _weed_ you own feels this good…”

***

Draco had quite readily agreed with Blaise that propositioning Potter for a threesome could be a good idea, but they were unsure how to proceed given Potter’s situation.

Blaise prided himself on his ability _not_ to care for people unless they mattered to him, and not many people mattered to him. He was quite willing to sell drugs and potions despite knowing what they did to people because their addictions fueled his income; he was happy to have one-night-stands with people who thought that Blaise and Draco liked them further than just a body to use; he only cared about the finer things in life, which happened to be pleasure, money, and Draco. Blaise wasn’t supposed to care about anyone or anything else.

Which was why he couldn’t understand why he was holding back when it came to Potter. 

Potter certainly flirted with Blaise and Draco both, and had made sexual offers in exchange for harder drugs than weed. He swore blindly that he was more than happy to have sex with them because he was good at getting fucked and he wanted to make Blaise and Draco feel good to make up for the mess he put them in. 

The problem was, Potter only ever acted and said things like that when he was stoned. When he was sober, Potter went back to being quiet and wistful, and Blaise and Draco were left unsure as to whether Potter meant the things he said or if it was just the marijuana talking, making Potter reveal his innermost thoughts that he wasn’t actually ready to deal with.

Blaise would have usually pressed the topic during Potter’s sober states to see if they could actually get sex out of him, but it felt wrong, somehow. Draco had been angry for days after Potter’s revelations about Filey, seemingly sharing the odd protective urge that Blaise had also found himself feeling towards Potter. 

It was all a bit of a mess, and Blaise hated mess. He liked things to be simple and enjoyable or worthwhile to him, and so far all Blaise had got from the situation was conflicted thoughts. Plan V was starting to look like a very viable option. 

Unfortunately, Draco and Blaise agreed one night that cracking open a bottle of wine to share would help ease their discomfort. One bottle turned into two, then Potter started drinking with them, and a third bottle was emptied, too. 

The rest of the night was a blur after that. 

Waking up with Potter’s naked body between Draco and Blaise’s equally nude ones was very clear, however. 

Blaise stared at Potter and Draco’s still-sleeping forms in alarm. 

“Shit!”

***

Potter hadn’t spoken to Blaise and Draco much since he’d woken up in bed with them. He’d assured them that he’d enjoyed himself and that he’d consented, but they hadn’t got much more out of him since.

“I knew we shouldn’t have been drinking,” Blaise muttered to Draco darkly. “We let our inhibitions down; I can’t even remember what happened after we finished the second wine bottle.”

“Me neither,” Draco agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And it’s a shame, because I’d like to recall the sex—I bet it was great.”

Blaise rolled his eyes affectionately. “That’s true, because I doubt he’s going to join us in bed again. Are we sure we didn’t force him? Because we’re many things, Draco, but we’re not rapists, and if we…”

He trailed off, feeling nauseous at the thought of pulling an unwilling Potter into bed with them.

“He said we didn’t,” Draco pointed out. “And I don’t think he’d lie; if we had hurt him I think he’d run away or something. I think Filey’s just fucked with his head, to be honest.”

That was what Blaise had suspected for a long while, and the reason they’d been putting off acting on their attraction towards Potter. Still, Blaise and Draco had been as equally drunk as Potter, so it wasn’t like their heads had been in the right space either.

“This is turning into a mess, Draco,” Blaise said sharply. “I’m calling it—we need to go to Plan V. I can’t wait around here much longer; I’ve not seen any articles so far that suggest Filey’s been arrested or been killed off by another rival. He’s still out there hunting for us, and I don’t think he’s going to stop unless we make him.”

“Plan fucking V,” Draco repeated with a humourless laugh. “It isn’t sounding as fun as last time. Do you remember last time? How the adrenaline got us all amped up, how I fucked you up right up against the wall in his apartment…”

Draco trailed off, sliding his hand on Blaise’s lap as he began placing sloppy kisses up Blaise’s neck. “And next time let’s just shag instead of drinking,” Draco added. 

“Draco…” Blaise whined. This really wasn’t the time for sex, although Draco’s hand was putting up a convincing argument…

Blaise and Draco both whipped their heads round as a crash echoed from upstairs, followed by the frantic barking of Galileo. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Blaise growled, standing and reluctantly letting Draco’s hand fall from his lap. 

They both stalked out the room and up the stairs, where Galileo was currently growling at a knocked over cabinet, the one which covered the secret entrance to their potion and drug stash. 

“Fuck!” Draco hissed, hurrying inside with Blaise close behind him.

They’d made it upstairs too late. 

The floor was littered in unwanted plastic bags of drugs, and Potter was amongst them all, slumped on the carpet with his belt wrapped around his upper arm and a used syringe by his feet. His pupils were already beginning to dilute to tiny pricks against the green, and his cheeks had a faint pink tinge to them. 

“Hi,” Potter slurred, glancing up at them and blinking heavily. “I found y’stash.”

That much was evident. 

“Whatever,” Blaise muttered. “Get high, stay high; it’s fine.”

Draco looked at Blaise with a raised brow.

“It’s too late to do anything now,” Blaise pointed out. “Besides, Plan V will be a lot easier to plan if he’s off his head.”

“I suppose,” Draco agreed. “And I’m really not in the mood to help him with withdrawal symptoms again.”

“We’re in agreement, then,” Blaise said, his words tasting bitter on his tongue. “Let Potter at out heroin while we deal with Filey.”

He cast a sad look over at Potter, whose breathing was slow and laboured, his head dropping as he drifted in and out of wakefulness. Blaise had always believed that the potions they sold weren’t nearly bad as the Muggle drugs, and out of all the Muggle drugs, heroin was one of the worst. 

It was a shame, really, that Potter was throwing his life away.

Still, it wasn’t Blaise’s problem, though that thought left him feeling vaguely ill. 

“Blaise,” Draco murmured, placing a hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “He’s an addict; it’s not our fault.” 

“You don’t sound so sure,” Blaise answered, voice sounding faint in his ears.

“It’s not our fault,” Draco repeated softly. “It’s not. It’s not…”

***

"You lied to me."

Blaise blinked blearily as he felt the end of the bed dip, rousing him from his sleep.

"What?" he muttered, rubbing his face as he sat up, prompting Draco to do the same. "Potter?"

"You lied to me," Potter repeated. "You said you were addicts, but I've never once seen you high, and I know the difference between personal stock and selling stock. You're dealers."

"We never actually told you we were addicts, Draco pointed out. "You jumped to conclusions and we didn't bother to correct you."

"Well I don't care that you lied," Potter pressed on. "Or that you're dealers; I'm not going to report you. But I want to have as much heroin as I want, free of charge."

Blaise pretended to look horrified. "Do you have any idea how much that stuff is worth, Potter?!"

"That's not my problem," Potter muttered, itching his arms violently. "I need it and you're going to let me have it."

"Fine," Blaise agreed, ignoring the alarmed look that Draco sent him. "Do what you want."

Blaise really couldn't care if Potter wanted to shoot himself up constantly, because he knew that if he denied him then Potter would find sneaky ways to get round him, and who knew what he might threaten to tell the Aurors. Blaise had had plenty of clients with addictions who were prepared to do whatever it took to get their next fix. Besides, he doubted Potter would approve of Plan V so it was better if he was completely unaware.

And Blaise honestly never gave a shit if his clients preferred to live their lives off their head.

Although dealing with Potter was the first time Blaise had ever felt guilt for his actions.

***

Galileo's furious barking and growling woke them up in the middle of the night.

Blaise and Draco jumped out of bed with a start, grasping for their wands frantically. 

A commotion was certainly happening down the hallway; banging and crashing and barking, and shouting that didn't sound anything like Potter's voice.

It seemed like Plan V had come to them.

They hurried down the hallway, rushing into Potter's room where Filey was stood over the bed, holding a thrashing Potter down while trying to shake off Galileo who had clamped his teeth down on Filey's leg.

Blaise cast a hex at Filey that had him thrown off Potter and against the wall, and hurried over to him as Draco ran to Potter's side.

"Nobody takes what's mine!" Filey shouting, struggling to stand in his injured leg. "I'll kill you all, you fucking scum!"

Filey trained his wand on Blaise, but was hit with a curse from Draco before he could finish his own attack, crumpling on the floor unconscious.

"Harry's having a fit or something," Draco said in alarm as Blaise nudged Filey's body forcefully with his foot. "I think he's injected him with something. If I take him to St Mungo's, can you carry out Plan V on your own?"

"I look forward to it," Blaise answered darkly, looking down at Filey in disgust. "I may have a little play with him first, though...Plan B, you could call it. Your aunt certainly had some good ideas. Bellatrix and Voldemort, what a pair."

"Good," Draco nodded. "Make sure you send a memento to his crew so they know not to mess with us, and then head to your mother's beach house. I'll meet you there."

Draco gathered Potter in his arms and Disapparated, leaving Blaise to deal with Filey at his leisure.

Blaise smiled coldly. He was going to have some fun.

***

Blaise and Draco sat rigidly by Potter's side in the hospital room.

Filey had injected him with a large amount of ketamine which had very nearly killed him.

The thought of losing Potter—Harry—made Blaise's heart clench painfully, and had made him realise some things about himself.

Blaise had come to care for Harry a lot. It was too early for love, because Blaise didn't fall in love easily, but he felt like he one day he could. Draco, too, had been deeply affected by Harry's almost-death, and he hadn't left his bedside for more than a couple of hours at a time.

With Filey...disposed of...and his crew getting the message that Draco and Blaise weren't to be messed with, they'd simply explained to the Healers that they’d discovered Harry in an alley behind a Muggle club, and Harry had reiterated the story for them so the Aurors had no reason to suspect Blaise and Draco of illicit behaviour.

The Healers had been keeping Harry magically unconscious while his body dealt with the heroin withdrawal again, though even they admitted the mental addiction was the real key to breaking Harry's drug usage. 

It took almost two weeks for Harry to wake up enough to have a coherent conversation with them. 

"Hey," Harry mumbled, blinking as he woke up and saw Blaise and Draco at his bedside. "I feel like shit."

"You look it," Draco snorted. 

"Filey's gone," Blaise stated. "None of his friends will bother any of us again, we've made sure of that."

Harry furrowed his brows. "What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said quickly. "The point is it's done."

Blaise shared Draco's assessment that Harry might not be so keen on the concept of Plan V.

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously but he didn't argue with them. 

"We also wanted to apologise," Blaise ground out—he'd been working himself up to this. "We got drunk and didn't have the ability to stop ourselves taking advantage of an equally drunk you, and I know that made you-"

"You didn't take advantage of me," Harry cut in. "I like you both a lot, and I wanted to have sex with you, but when I was sober I just got reminded of Yannick and I couldn't bring myself to do anything about my feelings. And after we woke up in bed together I did freak out, but not because of you. I just thought about how fucked up I was and how you couldn't possibly want someone who has issues like me; a junkie who has to get high to have sex and forget the pain."

"We drove you to use again though," Draco said quietly.

"No, I did," Harry shrugged. "This might sound fucked up but honestly, heroin is fucking brilliant. I know it's a terrible thing but when I compared being left sober with my thoughts to the rush and the high...God, there's nothing like it."

"Yeah, that's a little bit fucked up," Draco agreed. "But me and Blaise were talking and we agreed that we both want you. We don't want to rush or pressure you into anything, but we both want you. I know a polyamorous relationship isn't conventional-"

"Is anything about me conventional?" Harry pointed out. "As long as you're happy to take things slow."

"Absolutely," Blaise answered.

Because even though Blaise liked the adrenaline of a thrill, of simple pleasures and quick wins, he felt that waiting for Harry would be more than worth it.

***

“Look at all this money!” Draco exclaimed, running his hands through the coins they had stashed in their magically enhanced bags. “This is all ours and it only took one job!”

Blaise grinned, adrenaline running through his veins. The sirens of the Muggle police cars and the alarm of the bank continued to wail in the background, but Draco and Blaise were long gone.

Shifting from the narcotics business to bank robbing had been surprisingly easy. Muggle systems were so easy to hack with magic, and the security measures were simple to trick with a spell or two. There was no way that the Muggles would be able to catch them, and the goblins at Gringotts didn’t give a damn where their clients got their money from. 

And hitting big banks wasn’t nearly as damaging to individuals as selling narcotics had been. Seeing Harry’s struggle with heroin addiction had really opened their eyes to the damage they were doing, and though they had tried to deny it to themselves for so long, they just couldn’t carry on with it any longer.

They had started up a slow but steady polyamorous relationship with Harry, who had finally got himself into a day-centre rehab to get himself clean, and to a therapist to deal with the things that Filey had forced him into it. 

It had been a difficult process but Harry was starting to get there. And honestly, helping Harry through everything had been enlightening for Draco and Blaise both, given them a purpose for something worthwhile. Harry was more than pleasure and money, and Blaise felt something fierce in his heart for Harry, just like he felt for Draco. 

When they returned home Harry was waiting for them, sat in the lounge with Galileo sprawled by his feet. 

“Hi,” he greeted brightly, standing to kiss Blaise and Draco in turn. “How’d it go?”

“Fantastic,” Draco said. “Plenty to go towards your charity.”

That had been the ultimatum; Harry was fine with them robbing Muggle banks, so long as nobody got killed, and 20% of their take went towards the charity that Harry was setting up to help magical narcotic addicts.

Their situation was certainly unusual, but they were happy. And if Harry knew that Filey was buried six feet under in an unmarked grave, he never let on.


End file.
